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THE BLUES;

A LITERARY ECLOGUE.

"Nimium ne crede colori."-VIRGIL.

O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to hue,
Though your hair were as red, as your stockings are blue.

THE BLUES;

A LITERARY ECLOGUE.

ECLOGUE FIRST.

London - Before the Door of a Lecture Room.

Enter TRACY, meeting INKEL.

Ink. You 're too late.

Is it over?

Nor will be this hour.

Tra.

Ink.

But the benches are cramm'd, like a garden in flower, With the pride of our belles, who have made it the fashion." So, instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la belle passion" For learning, which lately has taken the lead in

The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.

Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my patience. With studying to study your new publications.

There 's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords

and Co.

With their damnable

Ink.

Whom you speak to?

Tra.

Hold, my good friend, do you know

Right well, boy, and so does "the Row: "

You 're an author a poet

Ink.

And think you that I

Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry

The Muses?

Tra.

Excuse me: I meant no offence

To the Nine; though the number who make some pretence
To their favours is such but the subject to drop,

I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop,
(Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I
Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces,
As one finds every author in one of those places ;)

VOL. V.-Nn

Where I just had been skimming a charming critique,
So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek!
Where your friend

threshing,

know who - you

has just got such a

That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely "refreshing."

What a beautiful word!

Ink.

Very true; 't is so soft

And so cooling-they use it a little too oft;

And the papers have got it at last — but no matter.
So they 've cup up our friend then?

Tra.

Not left him a tatter

Not a rag of his present or past reputation,
Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation.

Ink. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you know
Our poor friend! - but I thought it would terminate so.
Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.
You do n't happen to have the Review in your pocket?
Tra. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others
(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)
All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps,
And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.
Ink. Let us join them.

Tra.

What, won't you return to the lecture? Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there 's not room

for a spectre.

Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd —

Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?
Ink.

I heard
Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat
Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.
Tra. I have had no great loss then?
Ink.

Loss! such a palaver

I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver
Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours
To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,
Pump'd up with such effort, disgorged with such labour,
That -come-do not make me speak ill of one's
neighbour.

Tra. I make you!

Ink.

Yes, you! I said nothing until

You compell'd me, by speaking the truth

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To speak ill?

When speaking of Scamp ill,

I certainly follow, not set an example.
The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.

Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes

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Than Scamp, or the Jews' harp he nicknames his lyre,

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The devil! why, man!

Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.

You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition:
She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician.

Tra. I say she 's an angel.

Ink.
Say rather an angle.
If you and she marry, you'll certainly wrangle.
I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.

Tra. And is that any cause for not coming together? Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with science. She 's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning Herself in all matters connected with learning,

That

Tra. Ink.

What?

I perhaps may as well hold my tongue; But there's five hundred people can tell you you 're wrong. Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew.

Ink. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue? Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you-something of both.

The girl's a fine girl.

Ink.

And you feel nothing loth

To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet

Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.

Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I demand Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and hand. Ink. Why, that heart 's in the inkstand

the pen. Tra. A propos

then?

that hand on

- Will you write me a song now and

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